’Come, Tina, are we to have no music to-night before we sit down to cards?  Your ladyship plays at cards, I think?’ he added, recollecting himself, and turning to Lady Assher.

‘O yes!  Poor dear Sir John would have a whist-table every night.’

Caterina sat down to the harpsichord at once, and had no sooner begun to sing than she perceived with delight that Captain Wybrow was gliding towards the harpsichord, and soon standing in the old place.  This consciousness gave fresh strength to her voice; and when she noticed that Miss Assher presently followed him with that air of ostentatious admiration which belongs to the absence of real enjoyment, her closing bravura was none the worse for being animated by a little triumphant contempt.

‘Why, you are in better voice than ever, Caterina,’ said Captain Wybrow, when she had ended.  ’This is rather different from Miss Hibbert’s small piping that we used to be glad of at Farleigh, is it not, Beatrice?’

’Indeed it is.  You are a most enviable creature, Miss Sarti—­Caterina—­may I not call you Caterina? for I have heard Anthony speak of you so often, I seem to know you quite well.  You will let me call you Caterina?’

‘O yes, every one calls me Caterina, only when they call me Tina.’

‘Come, come, more singing, more singing, little monkey,’ Sir Christopher called out from the other side of the room.  ’We have not had half enough yet.’

Caterina was ready enough to obey, for while she was singing she was queen of the room, and Miss Assher was reduced to grimacing admiration.  Alas! you see what jealousy was doing in this poor young soul.  Caterina, who had passed her life as a little unobtrusive singing-bird, nestling so fondly under the wings that were outstretched for her, her heart beating only to the peaceful rhythm of love, or fluttering with some easily stifled fear, had begun to know the fierce palpitations of triumph and hatred.

When the singing was over, Sir Christopher and Lady Cheverel sat down to whist with Lady Assher and Mr. Gilfil, and Caterina placed herself at the Baronet’s elbow, as if to watch the game, that she might not appear to thrust herself on the pair of lovers.  At first she was glowing with her little triumph, and felt the strength of pride; but her eye would steal to the opposite side of the fireplace, where Captain Wybrow had seated himself close to Miss Assher, and was leaning with his arm over the back of the chair, in the most lover-like position.  Caterina began to feel a choking sensation.  She could see, almost without looking, that he was taking up her arm to examine her bracelet; their heads were bending close together, her curls touching his cheek—­now he was putting his lips to her hand.  Caterina felt her cheeks burn—­she could sit no longer.  She got up, pretended to be gliding about in search of something, and at length slipped out of the room.

Outside, she took a candle, and, hurrying along the passages and up the stairs to her own room, locked the door.